


Poor Character

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Sad, but it gets better, non-sburb AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's literally a story where I can write fluffy sweet sugary John/Dave and then TEAR IT THE FUCK DOWN w jealousy and psychological warfare EXCITING,</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Man. I just. I don't know if I can do this anymore."

"What? Do what, John?" His head snaps up from the laptop on the table, not even trying to hide the alarm, the emotion.

Everything was just so messed up.

"Is it because of Rez? Because you know that's just the joke of the centur-"

You cut him off. You don't even want to hear it.

"No, it's not fucking Terezi. It's about you and me. Us. I don't... This is hard." Your head is a mess, right now. Thoughts are jumbling together, interchanging and swapping and just making it _fucking impossible_ to catch a break.

Being 23 and standing in your apartment, trying to leave your boyfriend isn't much of an opportunity to catch a break regardless.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." He stands up. _No, no, this isn't what you wanted_ , is all you can you can think as he basically runs over to you. He reaches for your hand.

You flinch away.

The shock is almost immediately replaced by pain. You are killing this kid, and you don't even want to.

"Dave, it's... I'm sorry. About that. But I need you to understand that I can't... I have to go." You're resolute.

"Go _where_?" He sounds broken. You're doing this to him. You're breaking him.

Do you even care?

"Saying would defeat the purpose. I just need to breathe. To... To fucking, I don't know, get air! Self-inflicted solitary confinement. I have to go. I _have_ to, Dave."

He's going to throw a fit. He's going to scream obscenities at you, break up with you. You're being difficult, and you know it. You almost want him to.

Almost.

He stares at you, eyes wide, calculating. It's scary, how slowly time can pass. It feels like a millennium, waiting for his reaction, his response. You turn towards the door, turn your back to him. You can't take that pleading, scared expression. You're fucking with him. He feels like this because of you. It's your responsibility to fix it.

But you have responsibilities that take precedence over even that.

He whispers, a last gambit to change your mind, instead. Affect you. Anything. Guess he still cares? Wow. Reaches his hand out, holds your sleeve with his pointer finger and thumb. You shiver.

"Please. Please don't go."

You tense. It's visible.

"It doesn't have to be like this?" Asked like a question. Where's that Strider Cool? C'mon Dave.

"You... We can just talk about it."

You don't have anything left to say. You tug your hand forward, away. 

And you walk out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ha! You can't seriously think I don't see through your little act, do you?"

You widen your eyes, point to your chest, the epitome of shocked.

"Dave, you cannot be talking about me. You know I would never use underhanded tactics to achieve something so miniscule."

"Miniscule? _Miniscule_? Goldfish crackers will be the post-apocalyptic currency of the WORLD."

"I don't think currency can be edible."

"Currency can be anything. I could shave off all your arm pit hair and use that as the new world currency. One certified Egbert pit hair is like, a quarter to the radioactivity addled, deformed population. I'll be rich as _hell_ , dork. Here, I don't care, take the crackers."

You catch the box, smiling.

You're 16, hanging out at your best friends house. You don't think about the future much. All you know is that goldfish crackers are goddamn delicious, and you are probably going to fail AP lit.

"I just don't understand what her deal is."

"Oh my God, John, no. Not again. We took you through the 12-Step plan!"

A 12-Step plan consisting of Dave doing a shitty drawing of your English teacher and then you ripping it up 12 times.

"Shut up, dork. I'm serious! She has like, a vendetta or something against me."

"No, you got this all mixed up, turn ways. Miss Schrödinger could not give less of a shit about you. A vendetta is obsessive behavior. Obsessive is talking about your English teacher until everyone in your general vicinity ears fall off."

He is such an asshole.

"You are such an asshole. I'm allowed to vent! Venting is healthy. I'm healthy. You are unhealthy. You're a sack of shit. "

"If I'm a sack of shit, you are an overflowing rucksack of dicks."

Gross. He is so gross.

"Like, minimum 40 dicks of varying size, color, and shape in that rucksack."

You shove him off the couch. You can't even sit with this idiot anymore, he's sapping your intelligence the longer you're exposed to his idiocy.

"That is gross, why would you have a- I can't even say that stupid word. You stole that word from Harvest Moon, you didn't even legitimately learn it."

"Are you saying there's only one way to learn, and it has to be boring and in a claustrophobic tacky room with 10 other people who hate it as much as you to be legitimate? Are you saying there are no lessons to be learned from video games?"

He's really getting into it now, holding up his Xbox controller like Simba, balancing it on your knee. You roll your eyes.

"Video Games are the only hope for today's children to learn anything of value. I can only hope you can one day grow and harvest dicks to stuff in your rucksack, and fully appreciate the joys of doing so. Why would you have a sack of shit?"

"Touché. I don't care." You eat more goldfish crackers, thinking about what a bitch your English homework is. And your English teacher. She's a bitch too.

Dave groans and rolls over on the ground, tugging at your socks. You kick at him, the little fuck, trying to make do with your socks.

"Noooooo. John, no. Stop stuffing your face full of goldfish crackers and listen to me." You lick your fingers clean.

"We've been friends for how long." He looks at you, seriously, but you don't really feel like being serious.

"Uhhhhhh. Forever. Light years. Our friendship spans across space and time dude. We have been best friends. In every past life we have ever had."

"Shut up, for real. 10 years. We have been friends for 10 years. That's loyalty. That's true, blue friendship."

You don't like where this is going. 

"Do my English homework for me."

You dump the box of goldfish crackers on his stupid head.


	3. Chapter 3

You did it. You don't know how you pulled it off, but you did it. 

"I can't believe we did it."

"Me either."

Dave walks around the principals car, hands on his hips, all business. You can't believe you pulled this off. 

"This is so much better than when we snuck into the A/V room and swapped out the morning announcements with that Fifty Shades of Grey audio book clip."

"Miles better. Light years better. Dude." Dave looks up, seeing you grinning like a lunatic. "We are going to go down in history. And no one will ever know it was us!"

"Parking the principal's car on top of the bleachers the day before a pep rally. Genius, seriously." Dave circles around back to your side. "Props."

He holds out his hand for a fist bump. You motion to return it when you see lights coming out of the school. Dave freezes.

"Shit- c'mon!" You grab his arm and book it, leaping so fast to the bottom its a wonder you don't both trip.

Hopping down to the ground, you quickly slide underneath the bleachers. Breathing hard, you both kneel down, shoulder to shoulder. You're slightly panicking, but still riding the high of successfully pulling the biggest year end prank of them all. 

"Quit smiling, you dump truck!" Dave hisses. "I knew this was a bad idea. We're going to get suspended the day before we're free forever, fuck."

"Shh!" 

Adrenaline from the possibility of being caught is pulsing through your veins, causing you to shake like a leaf. It smells like summer and you can feel the wind rustling your hair.

"Getting suited up in fucking spy kids gear in the middle of the night to pull the principal's goddamn car up to the top of the bleachers. You're an idiot."

You turn to look at him, and scrunch your nose up, still grinning. His face is so close to yours- you can see every little freckle, the rise and fall of his chest, his shaking hands.

"Thanks for letting me use your truck. Couldn't have done it without you, dude."

He settles a bit at that, turns his head towards you, inches away. Your heart beats a little faster with the realization. His mouth turns up in a smirk.

"You would've tried to pull the thing up here yourself. Broken every bone in your body and totaled the car. Y'probably would have died. I was preventing your death, nerd, like a good best friend should!" He lowers his face, looking at you over his sunglasses, eyebrows raised. 

"And there'd be no space to fit in memorial speeches for graduation. Thing is packed up tighter than an italian made vase in transit to Brazil. Have you seen that schedule, on the program thing we got in English? Can't believe I have to sit through fuckin' Serkets rendition of the Graduation Song. Bitch ain't no Vitamin C."

You snigger, clapping him on the back.

"It won't be that bad. Especially since you can comfort yourself with the memory of the principals face tomorrow."

With the contact, Dave snapped his head forward again, laughing quietly.

"You're just lucky. I can't believe we did this. Hey, is anyone coming?"

You shift and crane your head above the cold steel, to be greeted with darkness and nothing but the sound of crickets.

You grin and whisper back "No dude, we're good!" while lowering yourself, to find Dave's face less than inches away.

The wind stops. Cricket noises die.

"Good," he whispers. You can feel his breath on your mouth.

And then you can feel his mouth on your mouth.

You're 18 years old and getting kissed by your best friend.

His lips on yours feel like nothing you've ever felt. You've been kissed before- you dated a girl for a month before she broke up with you, teasing that you weren't "seeeeeeeerious" but "trust me, it was fun." Dave hated her.

You guess you know why, now.

When you part, he's shaking, and it's not because you stole a car from the school parking lot. You're too stunned to say anything. It crosses your mind to take his hand, get him to stop shaking, but you're frozen. 

He looks at you, mouth a thin line, before maneuvering his way out from underneath the bleachers. He stuffs his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and stands there, waiting for you.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh," you whisper. "AHHHHHHHHH."

"Dude."

You get out and dust off your jeans. 

You look up at him, fidgeting. You know he's waiting for you to say something, and you have a couple seconds to do it before your silence makes the choice for you.

So you make those seconds count. You think about all the times you guys had sleepovers, and being just the teensiest bit disappointed every time Dave put a shirt back on after changing for bed, like him being shirtless didn't last long enough.

You think about how you felt a sick satisfaction every time he seemed almost jealous when you talked about Vriska, or when she dragged you away from him to go out while you were dating, but felt so guilty you squashed it.

You think about the kiss. About how you do everything together. About how you never want to stop doing everything together.

So you kiss him.

And he kisses back.

And you're laughing, because it's so dramatic, and why didn't you do this earlier, because you aren't gay, idiot, he mumbles, and _what_ , of course you're not gay, well maybe now, maybe you're a little gay.

"No dude, you've always been gay." He says, with no malice, just the biggest smile you've ever seen on him.

"Shut up. Lets go. Lets go to McDonalds. I'm starving."

You go. On the way there, your hands somehow get tangled up and hold each other the whole ten minute drive. Once you barrel into the place, fumbling for change, red faced and stuttering, you order an obscenely large amount of fries, and ice cream sundaes.

He says he'll marry you if you give him a fry. You laugh, and say no, but will you be my boyfriend?

He gets stupid bashful and takes a fry off your tray.

"Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahhaaha now shit is gonna get REAL


	4. Chapter 4

You wake up to the sound of the doorbell ringing, but it's too early for that shit, so you stretch a little and mumble "Mornin'" while reaching over and curling your arm under-

Nothing. Nothing? There's no one there, your arm landing on cold, empty sheets. At that, you sit up in alarm. It's early, but not too early to be alarmed that your boyfriend is gone.

What- fuck, what day is it. Yesterday was Tuesday so what, Wednesday? Yeah. You don't have class on Wednesday. Neither does your boyfriend. Wednesday is sleep in and have afternoon sex day. It's the day you cook dinner, because you have the time and by Wednesday you're sick of shitty ramen and peanut butter sandwiches.

So where is Dave?

You systematically do a scan of the room and do _not_ see Dave's pajamas on the floor where he changed into his clothes for the day, and you don't see a mess of cereal on the table that spilled out of his bowl, and you don't see the door unlocked from when he leaves and forgets to lock it. So either he's hiding in the apartment, or the victim of a body snatching.

You hear a vibrating in the bedroom that you hope is your phone and not Dave surprising you with sex toys and scramble back to your bed to find your phone folded up somewhere in the sheets and no Dave or sex toys. By the time you get it, the notification light is on and it's stopped vibrating.

_(2) New Text Messages  
(1) Missed Call_

You open up the messages first.

_hey dude takin off early soz you gotta miss my dick today be back round 4_

Your fingers tap at the screen quickly. "Where... did... you... go... you... gross... asshole... and... why... were... you... so... responsible... this... morning... are... you... really... Dave. Send." So that solves one mystery. Dave never gets up early unless he has to. You wonder what was so important, and go back to check your inbox when your phone pings again.

_(1) New Voicemail_

Huh. No one usually leaves a voicemail. It doesn't help that your voicemail is two minutes of you enthusiastically freestyling about leaving a message at the toneizzle and you've reached J-Dawg and getting back to them shawty while Dave beat boxes in the background.

You should probably change it. Next message.

_John, I'm doing you the courtesy of reminding you that you've been absent from every meeting we've had in the past two months. I'm beginning to doubt the sincerity of your support. The esteemed Order of the Eastern Productions doesn't require floaters that only show up on potluck days with no contributions. I'll expect your resignation if no inspiration for attendance strikes you._

God, what, the fuck, it's too early for this, so many words, ugh.

_rose watching utena and paranoia agent in your living room isn't even a real club it's watching anime in your living room. do you want to have lunch later!_

You guys can talk about your club attendance over soup. You haven't seen Rose in forever, anyways. You aren't neglecting your friends for Dave, or anything, you're just really busy!

Anyways, voicemail, last one, and then you're taking a goddamn shower.

"Hahaha, oh my _God,_ you still haven't changed that stupid answering machine message?! Dude, it's lame as hell. Get with it. I'm just calling so you don't freak out, I had a breakfast date with a pal." 

It's Dave, and you smile a little and cuddle up with your phone. You can hear a girl cackling in the background, and what sounds like "worst rap ever" spluttered out between laughs. Who is this "pal", again?

"It was really last minute, as in, I did not find out until my phone rang at _six in the goddamn morning, you psycho,_ " More cackling. "Anyways, I shot you a text but you haven't replied ye- oh, damn, there you are. Finally up, huh? Damn, uh, well, I'll be home tonight, sweetie honey pie, can't wait for dinner and wear your apron, the sexy one, mwah, mwah." He makes sloppy kissing noises until they fade out and he hangs up.

What the hell?


End file.
